


Preview of Those of Dark Pasts

by LiciForShort



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Just a sample of le story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:13:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4331616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiciForShort/pseuds/LiciForShort





	Preview of Those of Dark Pasts

Chap 1: The Ride  
Aliciana was not pleased to have been caught pickpocketing again. She knew that the Ivarstead guards had taken note of her, but to follow her around the town and stalk her from every fucking corner? It was ridiculous! They had evaded her magic, dodged her daggers, bound her hands and loaded her roughly into a shoddy, splintering wagon, hardly fit to carry livestock. She didn't know for sure where they were taking her, but she knew it was nowhere good.

There were three other passengers in the cart with her, all with the same glum, dejected look on their face. None of them really looked like criminals to her-- maybe she was just biased, having grown up with bandits. They were all Nords-- except the scrawny man sitting diagonally to her right. He was an Imperial.

The wagon creaked and shuddered with each bump and turn, and the clomping of the horses hooves ahead was driving her insane. Not to mention the rough looking, blond Nord seated in front of her would not shut up for the life of him. She had tried to hint that she, a professionally trained thief and highly esteemed member of the Mages Guild, was not interested in the ramblings of an extremely sentimental and ridiculously emotional Stormcloak. 

Time and time again she had glared up at him, injecting as much venom into her piercing, ice blue eyes as she could. But still the man would. Not. Shut. Up.

"So, where are you from, horse-thief?" asked the man, directing his question towards the scrawny, mousy-haired Imperial next to him.

"Why do you care?" replied the thief, clearly annoyed at the man's rambling as well. He shifted uncomfortably in the Nord's misty-eyed gaze.

"Well... I just think that a man's last thoughts should be of home." The blond man's voice quavered, and his brows knit together. His head tilted downwards, and Aliciana tried not to laugh at his sudden shift in demeanor. 

The horse thief clearly had no experience with being on Death Row, because his next comment was pretty comical. 

"What do you mean, his last thoughts? Are they going to execute us? Do you know something we don't?!" The horse thief's eyes grew wide, and his prepubescent sounding voice rose a few painful octaves.

"Well, where did you think we were going? On a road trip 'cross the countryside?" The Nord chuckled dryly. "Hey, guard! Could you get me a mead?"

"Shut up, scum," replied one of the guards, and the Nord laughed. The thief stared over the side of the wagon, stretching out his neck so as to get a better view of what lay beyond. 

"Rorikstead-- I'm from Rorikstead."

Aliciana had to stifle a laugh-- he looked just like a pet skeever she had once had. What with his mop of matted hair, his over-large ears, and his squeaky voice, there really wasn't much of a difference between the two.

"I was under the impression that they were taking us to Cidhna Mine in Markarth; you know, to work us to death," she interjected, lifting her bound hands to brush aside a few strands of raven-black hair that had escaped from her leather hood and blown down into her eyes.

"Pfft-- right," chuckled the Nord, "they're just going to send Ulfric Stormcloak on his merry way to do as he pleases in Markarth of all places-- you know, to shout apart some other Jarl and take his place." He grimaced as he spoke those words, risking a glance at the man across the wagon and to his left.

Aliciana hadn't payed much attention to him-- his mouth was stuffed with a rag, and a cloth had been tied around his head to hold the rag in place. He hadn't moved an inch the whole ride. But now that she was looking, she could tell that yes, this was certainly Ulfric. How she hadn't noticed before, she did not know. But now she saw-- the brownish, gray streaked hair, the large, bulbous nose-- it had to be him.

"Wait--" commented the horse thief, realizing at the same time as Lici, "they've caught Ulfric? That's... That's great! But... that must mean that we really are on our way to an execution..." His eyes widened, and the honey-colored irises brimmed with tears. Apparently he was an Imperial to the core.

"Let me just say: Quite frankly, I don't give a damn what happens after we're dead-- what will it matter? Things will work out, they always do." Lici couldn't help it. Her mother had always told her that speaking her mind was her greatest flaw, but her father had been the complete opposite. He had told her that she had a very special voice, and that she needed to speak for women across Tamriel, and to fight for their equal treatment.

"I guess you're right," said the blond Nord, "but should we not worry about our brothers and sisters? And what kind of world they're to live in when we depart?" His voice suddenly became thick with the same Nordic accent that Aliciana's parents had had. It had driven her nuts throughout most of her childhood.

"By the Nine-- are you seriously asking me that?" Lici looked up at him with consternation, stray strands falling in her face again. "Anyone and everyone I've ever cared for is dead, and soon enough, I will be, too." 

He seemed genuinely taken aback, and he cast his stare down to the ground of the cart. 

"I'm very sorry to hear that," replied the man, his accent thickening as he spoke.  
"I can't say the same for myself. My sister and her family live in Riverwood. I wish I could have said goodbye to her... Told her to fight against the Imperials..." 

Lici couldn't help but roll her eyes. The bastard was lucky. She had watched as her sister and family were raped, tortured, and then murdered. This Nord man had nothing to complain about. 

"Pfft..." Is all she could muster. She had thrown enough pity parties to last her a lifetime, and she wasn't about to go crying for a stranger on her deathbed.

The Nord looked up at her sorrowfully, and she couldn't help but notice the color of his eyes. They were like hers-- almost white, with a deep blue ring around the icy irises, but there was a sweet, innocent glimmer in them that had never been present in hers. His sand-colored hair, though filthy, suited him. It hung to his shoulders, and a braid was woven into one side. He had deep, chiseled cheekbones, not so hollow that he looked sickly, that were coated with blond stubble. 

Despite herself, she realized that this "extremely sentimental, ridiculously emotional" man was not so hard on the eyes. But what was she thinking-- she couldn't go through this again. She was on her way to her fucking execution, she couldn't be thinking about a man like this.

"So... what's your name, girl?" He asked, the accent slightly lessening, but still clearly present.

Aliciana laughed.  
"Why do you care? You don't know me. And you never will, apparently, as we are both on our way to our executions." She adjusted her leather hood to better cover her face and hair, and her eyebrows knit together with irritation.

The Nord scoffed. "I can tell you could use a friend; even if it is just for an hour or two. I'm Ralof, by the way." There was a slight smile in his voice that tempted her, but with years of practice, she ignored the urge to smile back.

"I'm Aliciana-- Lici for short. My parents called me Ana, but if you ever call me that, you better hope you don't wake up with my dagger in your back, and be praying to the Gods that you're fast enough to dodge it." She said it with a steely edge in her voice. 

She knew it sounded pathetic-- being hung up on a nickname-- but after they had died she had never been able to let it go, and the nickname brought back too many memories. And the memories were her undoing.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Lici. I hope we can get better acquainted before we, erm... die." He held out his bound hands, clearly an invitation to shake. She accepted, and soon enough Ralof was rambling on once again.

Nearly an hour later, they approached a city. Helgen. Aliciana had visited here with her father before, but only once. Apparently Ralof had grown up in the area.

"I was once sweet on a girl from here," he said, nostalgia strong in his voice. "I wonder if Vilod still makes his special mead with the juniper berries mixed in..."

She knew she shouldn't interrupt his thoughts of home, but now she could see the chopping block looming up in the distance, and she could feel that familiar tentacle of dread curling round and round her stomach as she realized just how much she did not want to die.

"Ralof," she blurted, eyes ridiculously wide as she touched his bound hands with hers, "maybe if we hurry we can break out and get Ulfric out of here!" 

Desperation was thick in her voice. She knew she must have looked ridiculous, but a sudden instinct of fight or flight had just kicked in, and she did not feel like dying after all she had done to survive.

Ralof looked up at her, confused and saddened. His eyes were brimmed by a glistening liner of tears, and his mouth was turned down at the corners. He reminded her of a big, stuffed cave bear that her father had once bought her from one of the traveling Khajiit caravans. He looked so innocent...

Ralof's voice cracked as he spoke, and Aliciana tried not to scream with frustration as the chopping block loomed ever closer, and her inevitable death suffocated her with anxiety.

"Lici, I think it's too late for that. If only..."

He was cut off by the wagon thumping to a halt, the irritating clomp clomp of the steeds ceasing as well. Aliciana's eyes widened, as she knew what was bound to happen next.

Maybe I should run, she thought, the idea spreading through her mind like magefire across a dry field. Yeah, I'll just wait until they're not looking and sprint like a fucking madwoman!

At that moment the horse thief, who she believed had referred to himself as Lokir, jumped off of the wagon yelling something about how he "wasn't a rebel, and wouldn't die like one". One of the guards promptly readied an arrow, aimed for the thief's back, and released.

Lici may have been a thief herself, but she wasn't an assassin. So to see once again another human go down by the means of someone else, well, it tore her apart. The thief fell in the dusty road ahead of her, but not before crying out in sheer agony. She could see, even from this distance, the expression of mixed shock, pain, and terror that exploded across his mousy features as his knees buckled. His hands reached for the arrow that had completely penetrated his chest, and his shaking fingers fiddled with it to no avail. He collapsed in the dirt, and the impact sent the arrow back out through his back.  
He now lay face down on the ground, a crimson pool spreading beneath his quickly cooling body.

Aliciana had practically seen the life drain out of him as she stared in horror; she was too appalled to watch, but too shocked to peel her eyes away. She was sure tears were welling up in her eyes, and she tried to blink them away, but those dastardly things would not subside.

Ralof must have seen her staring and guessed how she was feeling, because he promptly turned her face away from the corpse with his calloused hands. The touch sent shivers across Lici's skin, and one of those damn tears leaked from the corner of her eye without her permission. Ralof brushed it away and said in a soft and soothing voice, "Those of us who have seen death in its worst form may not be able to withstand it. There is no shame in that."

Once again, Lici's eyes brimmed with tears. What the fuck was wrong with her? She saw some guy that she hardly even knew die, and suddenly she became a useless lump of mushy emotion? What the hell?!  
Aliciana turned her head, and Ralof's hands fell from her cheeks. She tried to think up a witty response on the spot to write off her mess of emotions. The best she could come up with was, "Well, some of us who actually have seen death in its worst form, just need to pull our heads out of our asses and get our shit together. Gods, I'm acting like my fucking mother. And I always hated that woman."

 

Chapter 2: Ploy of a Thief 

After waiting for the carts behind and ahead of them to fully stop, the guards roughly unloaded the prisoners, making sure to jostle them along the way.  
A few of the guards laughed and made fun of Ulfric, prompting a "shut your fucking mouth" from Ralof. One guard did not hesitate to hit him over the head with the base of his axe, and Ralof nearly collapsed with the pain of it.

"How about you shut your fucking mouth, Nord?" The guard retorted.  
Ralof was on his knees, struggling to stand. His straw colored hair was now matted with blood, and Aliciana could tell that a portion of his scalp had been split nearly to the bone. She rushed over to him, helping him up the best she could with her tied hands, pulling him to his feet and trying to calm his obvious rage.  
His eyes shone with the fire of hatred, and his face was set in a dangerous expression of fury. Blood trickled down the side of his face from the wound, dripping into his eyes and breaking his stare as he wiped it away. Lici placed a hand on either side of his face, guiding his gaze to her, and she spoke softly to soothe his rage.

"Ralof, you saw what they did to the thief. Don't die trying to honor Ulfric. I don't think I can face the last ten minutes of life alone again."

Her eyes glistened in the shadows beneath her thick, green-sheened leather hood and Ralof saw the set of her plump lips was one of determination. He shook off the anger and cast his eyes to the ground.

Ralof looked sincerely sorry. He apologized, but said he couldn't stand the "filthy Imperials" disrespecting his leader.  
"Ulfric deserves to be honored, not tormented, even if it is his last hour."  
Lici agreed, leaving him to his high perceptions of his leader. She guided him back towards the line of prisoners headed for the block. 

They were all marched forward, and as they approached the chopping block Lici saw the shady executioner, standing tall and guiltlessly in front of a large watchtower. He was wearing a guard's helmet that covered his entire head, and his dark clothing was splattered with blood. He shifted uncomfortably in the hot sun, his dark clothes absorbing and radiating the heat like a furnace. His huge axe was twisting around in his hands, and she could see the glistening spots along the handle where his sweaty palms had been.

The female Imperial who seemed to be in charge called up the first criminal, reading off his name from a long list. 

"The Imperials love their damn lists," muttered Ralof.

Aliciana watched as the man was bent over the block, his head positioned over the basket that would soon catch it. The man's eyes were filled with tears, though his demeanor showed strength and dignity.

She forced herself to look away, but she still heard the sickening thunk as the man was decapitated, and a nauseating squish as the raw meat of his neck made impact with the basket.  
Ralof flinched at she sound of the axe, his eyes turning down as he said "As fearless in death as he was in life." Lici was next.

A tall, slender man wearing leather imperial armor asked for her name. He also had a list in his hand, and she knew that her name probably wasn't on it.

"Aliciana Maevnis," She spat at the man, drawing back her Thieves Guild Hood to reveal her face and raven black hair. Lici looked up at him with her icy gaze, trying her very best to intimidate him.  
"And 200 Septims says my name isn't on your damn list."

The man's eyes widened. He scanned over the list again, then glanced back up at her. "You're right-- only those soldiers are on here..." He gestured to the large group of men clad in Stormcloak apparel. His eyebrows knit together with confusion as he looked up at the Imperial woman, the question clear in his eyes.

"Just do it anyways, Hadvar," spat the woman, glaring intently at Lici, "she's obviously a member of the Thieves Guild."

Hadvar looked resentful toward the woman, but agreed to her orders none the less. With eyes downcast and full of regret, he gestured for Lici to go to the block.

Injecting as much spite and resentment into her voice as she physically could, Aliciana peered up at Hadvar with a tremendous amount of pain glittering in her eyes.

"Just remember, Hadvar, you may be killing a thief, but I have never stolen out of greed." She took a deep breath and looked at the ground.

"Everything I have done thus far in my life has been to survive. And now... now you're taking even that from me." 

She could see his head hang as she took a wary step toward the block; Lici's play on Hadvar's apparent feelings had worked. She may have had to lie, but seeing his indignation at her death was almost as satisfying as finding a particularly pricy piece of loot in an unguarded home. Fighting back a smile, she reminded herself that she was about to die.

She stood before the block, eyes brimming with tears. The executioner grabbed her and shoved Aliciana's head onto the sticky, blood covered block, and she found herself eye to eye with the head of the man who had been killed before her. She closed her eyes and thought of home, as Ralof had suggested, and the man raised his axe.

Lici exhaled, bidding the world goodbye, as a loud, screeching roar echoed through the sky, accompanie by a great surge if unbearable heat. She felt consciousness slip away as her head smacked against the block once again.

________

Ralof had prided himself in his ability to woo unsuspecting women. Something about his cheery, positive attitude attracted them like flies to raw meat. But this girl-- she was different than most.  
He could tell by her thick, brown leather armor that she was part if the Thieves Guild, and he guessed that that was why she had been captured and loaded onto this wagon with the other prisoners. She was slender; very petite for a woman her age. She looked... maybe 19 or 20 to him.  
She was quiet and reserved, and seemed to flinch away from Ralof's attempts to engage her in conversation, but he just couldn't resist. He usually avoided criminals for the sole sake of doing his duty to Ulfric, but this girl had sparked his interest, and he was eager to learn more about her.  
That is, if she would answer any of his damned questions.  
She would look up at him with her pale eyes, glare for a minute or two, and then return her gaze to the floor of the filthy wagon. It was driving him mad. Such a mysterious girl that he was eager to learn about, and she was just as reserved as a reclusive skeever in the pits of Oblivion.  
The girl was obviously a Nord. She had the frosty blue eyes and fair skin signature to the race, and the sharp chill in the air didn't seem to bother her one bit. But her voice, accent, and dialect were clearly Imperial. He had tried to ask her about that, but she refused to answer. Again.  
Ralof knew that she must be shy, or just reserved... but he had to know more about her. Something in her peculiar, dainty demeanor had piqued his interest, and he would find out about her somehow. He would win her over eventually.

_______

As her consciousness returned, Lici didn't hear any normal voices, no conversations among the waiting criminals, no detectable words being exchanged between old friends meeting their end together. She did, however, hear roaring fire and piercing screams, and a deep rumble echoing out from somewhere nearby.

She peeled her eyelids open and immediately regretted it. The fire was so bright it stung them, and she squeezed then shut once again as she tried to stand. A spot on the side of her head, just above her ear, was throbbing painfully, and she was pretty sure she felt blood dripping down her neck. Some kind of impact had thrown her into the air earlier and she had smacked her head against the chopping block on the way back down. It hurt like a bitch.

As she got to her feet, Lici felt a strong hand clap down onto her shoulder. Her eyes flew open, and she realized it was Ralof. Somehow his binds had come untied. His face was smeared with ash and sweat, and he wore a look of surprise.

"How... I thought... You're alive?!" His voice quavered and his eyes bulged as he stared at her, shocked.

"Well, obviously. I just hit my head... I don't even know how long I was out. What's going on?" Lici rubbed her eyes, ignoring the pulsing pain above her ear. She looked around at the city, and her jaw dropped. In a matter of minutes the sky had turned red; fire and heat surging from every direction. 

"I don't know--it's a dragon, I think..." Ralof replied, that thick Nord accent showing in his voice again. He caught Lici's eyes, and she could see the raw terror haunting them.

Lici shook her head, astonished.

"A dragon?! It isn't possible!" Her jaw dropped and her eyes grew wide, but she knew it must be true as she looked around the once beautiful city of Helgen. The thick walled, stone buildings had crumbled and fallen, and anything made of wood had burst into flame. 

Bodies littered the street, all of them burnt beyond recognition. Ralof quickly cut Lici's binds off with a dagger he had probably taken from a corpse somewhere, and she snapped out of her trance.

Once again, that rumbling screech filled the skies, and Aliciana saw the massive beast nearing them.

"Follow me!" Yelled Ralof, pulling her by the hand toward a large, round building.

________

Somehow they managed to get to Riverwood, to stay with Ralof's sister, Gerdur. They decided to leave for Whiterun in the morning, to inform the Jarl of the imminent danger to the small town. But tonight they would rest, and they would recover their strength for the journey.

Gerdur was a very kind woman; she welcomed Lici with open arms, not even asking why she had been captured and taken to her death. She offered to let Lici stay with her, and said that Lici and Ralof should lay low for a while, so not to be caught by the guards and put back in the situation from which they had just escaped.

They weren't allowed to stay at the inn, for fear of being recognized by its inhabitants, but Gerdur only had one spare room in her home, so Ralof and Lici had to share. At least Ralof had bathed, and no longer smelled like some sort of filthy, wild animal.

Lici honestly didn't know what to expect. Ralof had saved her life; comforted her before her death... But she didn't know what kind of man he was. If he was anything like the men of the Guild... then Lici knew she was into a lot of trouble. But Ralof seemed different... more respectable.

**a whole lot of smutty smuttyness that you definitely don't wanna read**

 

Chapter 3: Dark Memories 

Seven weeks later they were sitting outside the ruins of the Western Watchtower; Aliciana trying to hide her terror, and Ralof not even caring to disguise his pride. Irileth had left; returned to Jarl Balgruuf to relay the news. Lici knew he'd be waiting for her, but sitting here, staring into the sunset with Ralof was nice. Being alone with Ralof in general was nice.

He put his muscular arm around her and said, "I knew there was something different about you. A strong, independent woman like you, with the thieving skills of a God..." He smiled, rubbing Lici's shoulder. "Bet you're glad I saved you from Helgen now, huh?"

She laughed, leaning into his side. She tried not to look at the dragon corpse, and to ignore the power that was suddenly flowing through her veins.

"You bet I am. But you can't leave me yet. You still have to help me get to Riften, at least until I harness my power enough to handle myself." Lici's blue eyes were pleading.

"Why the hell would you want to go to Riften?" Ralof asked, furrowing his brow and clearly questioning her judgment. "It's a hellhole."

"Well... it's kind of why I came to Skyrim in the first place," Lici responded, flicking a strand of hair out of her face and glancing up at him, locking him in her icy gaze.

"I'd wondered. You have the accent of an Imperial, but the blood of a Nord... It's just difficult to ask you questions like that when you refuse to answer anything about your past."

"Well, I'm sorry. You'll just have to wait and listen to the stories when I'm good and ready to tell them. As for this one, I think I am ready."

He turned towards her, propping one fist under his chin and making an adorable face that had her yearning for him all over again. She blushed. Aliciana knew he was mocking her, but she didn't care. His cute and playful sarcasm had her caught in his trap.

"Well, you've obviously seen my Guild armor, so you know I'm a part of that. But you probably didn't know that was born in Cyrodiil, of two good Nords Alekfr and Myrie Maevnis. They were the most kind and sincere people I had ever known-- a lot like you, in fact. Considerate and sweet, and always putting others ahead of themselves." Lici paused, and Ralof smiled.

"Thanks, Li." He motioned for her to go on.

"One day I came home from the market to find our home reduced to ashes. My father and brothers had been burned, but the bandits responsible had kept my mother and sister as captives. Trophies. I came home just as they were being raped-- they were screaming loud enough that I had heard them from the valley that marked the half way point between my home and the market. " The smile melted off of Ralof's face, and he put his hand on Lici's neck and pulled her closer.

"I had only a dagger and a few lockpicks; and I was only eleven years old. I had been sprinting since the halfway point, able to see the thick smoke rising from my home and to hear the screams of my family echoing across the valley. When I arrived, exhausted, I somehow managed to jump on the back of the bandit who'd been busy with my 7 year old sister, Cyndia, and I stabbed him repeatedly in the throat. According to my psychotic neighbor Astrid, if stabbed in the throat, the victim found it nearly impossible to scream.

"Upon the bandit's death, I lifted Cyndia up and tried to take her pulse. According to my senses, she was already dead. She was covered in blood, and the brand new dress my mother had sewn her was torn to shreds. I closed her eyes and moved on." Ralof could feel her immense sorrow, and he hugged her tighter yet to him.

"I had tried not to cry as I approached my mother and her captor. I was lucky; the rest of the bandit clan was picking through the ashes of my home, searching for anything that had survived the fire. I could see that the man was holding my mother from behind, with one arm curved Around her throat. He was carving deep gashes into mother's skin with his knife, and she was weakly pushing away his hand. I could see tears on her face, and each time she pushed him away, he hit her in the jaw. I readied my dagger to go in for the kill, but a hand clasped over my mouth as I approached, pulling me backwards and away from the bandits.

"It was Astrid, the neighbor I told you about earlier. Her parents had once worked for the Dark Brotherhood, but had left to raise their small family in the country. Astrid was a few years older than me, probably 14 or 15, and she terrified me beyond reason. 'Shhhh,' she had said, dragging me away from the bandits and towards the thick copse of trees that had grown behind our house. Once we were safe in the cover of the trees, she spun me around and said, 'What in Oblivion were you thinking?' She slapped me, and I knew that I had to get away from her before she killed me. Astrid had always been a strange girl-- quirky in a dark and intimidating way. She had, as a child, vivisected small forest creatures to see their inner workings, and her parents had only encouraged it.

"As I was gearing up to run from Astrid, I heard the bandit that had been preoccupied with my mother walking towards us. I tried to warn her, but she already seemed to know. Astrid had already melted into the shadows when the bandit reached the trees and saw me. There was nowhere I could run."

Ralof looked at Lici and sighed. "What happened after that?"

"They took me-- kept me for years. They had learned from my sister that young children weren't strong enough for their sort of 'fun', so they let me 'ripen', as they put it. I was their pet. Their animal. I had no feelings, no value-- I was just a dog to them. That is, until I turned 13 and one of the men decided it had been long enough. It was the same man I had seen with my mother. His name was Yronthor.  
"He would beat me and beat me before I 'came of age', and even after. I was his toy; his favorite plaything. He used me-- molested me-- nearly twice a week, sometimes more. But never classifiable as rape. 

"That is, until one day three weeks before my fourteenth birthday. Yronthor got impatient. He dragged me into a small room in the Dwemer ruin where the camp was set up and bashed my head against the solid stone wall. He told me that if I didn't do exactly what he said, he would kill me, slowly and painfully. 'Like your father', he had said.

"To be honest, Ralof, I don't know what was going through my mind at that time. I should've fought back, but I didn't. I just laid there and let him fuck me. I don't know why I didn't just kill him then and there." Aliciana's face was covered in tears now, and Ralof pulled her head against his chest. 

"You don't have to go on, Li, if you don't want to. I think I get the idea." She nodded, mumbling her thanks through stifled sobs. After a minute, she gained back her composure and continued.

"I joined the Guild in Cyrodiil soon after I escaped, but not before killing and dismembering each one of those sick bandit bastards. Myramor, the Guildmaster in Cyrodiil, had found me huddled near the road, just outside of the camp, covered in the blood of the people who had killed my family and nearly killed me. He took me in and raised me, taking the place of my dead father.

"He sent me here to inform the Riften Guild of the dwindling resources back in Cyrodiil, and to ask them for help. Don't know why Myramor didn't just come himself." Ralof shifted uncomfortably on the stone chunk he was precariously positioned on. 

"I am so, so sorry... If you had only told me, I never would have gone on as I did in Riverwood... I shouldn't have gotten you drunk and coaxed you-"

"Ralof, stop. That wasn't your fault. You didn't make me kiss you. That was my choice. You're the one who stopped it, and I thank you for that."

"Listen, Lis, about that night in Riverwood. I just need to know something." 

"Ralof, I was drunk, and so were you, and we just happened to be sharing a bed. That's all there really was to it." Lici tried to hide the quaver in her voice, and calm the rising heat in her cheeks. 

**More nasty smut shit that I am sparing you from**


End file.
